it's the perfect week to slow down

time to huddle and be still for the winter solstice

We have suddenly dropped into deep winter. It’s a bracing reminder of cycles and seasons, the bare branches and short, cold days encouraging introspection. Here in Tasmania the sky has a stark clarity - a luminosity - that softens only at dusk when the blue fades to marshmallow pink. Inside there’s the glow of the fire that draws us in to huddle in the warmth. We are slowed by the flames.

My desk sits against a window that looks out to the front garden and a hedge where blue fairy wrens flit. They flit from branches like I flit between tasks; quickly and with an agility that defies my best intentions. Why am I like this? Because my brain has been trained to constantly search for something to pique my interest instead of concentrating on the task at hand. I wrangle it back to where it needs to be but still, I’m jittery.

The consequences of this distracted energy is a physical and mental exhaustion that feels racy and achy. All my energy moves upwards and I have to consciously pull it back down again; ground myself with warmth, time away from the screen and gentle walking. It’s a recognisable pattern for me - a creative upwards spiral - and it’s especially pertinent at the moment as I finish up 12 weeks of rewrites and edits.

I’m sure that you know this feeling, too - of being untethered by the demands of busyness - regardless of the work you do. It is, after all, the world we are living in. Moving at your own pace requires foresight and defiance, a self-awareness that exists despite all the distractions. If there is ever a time to be slow, it’s this week as we inch towards the winter solstice.

A few days ago someone asked me: what do you do when you’re feeling lost in life?

I answered: I ask myself: what really, truly matters? And then I take small steps in that direction.